


Like a Man With a Terrible Plan

by tresshots



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek Needs To Use His Words, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit, Zen Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 18:51:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8338813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tresshots/pseuds/tresshots
Summary: Stiles starts pranking Derek for YouTube views.
It’s all fun and games until it’s not.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be really Cute and Sweet but I just can't write anything without characters with self esteem issues. Oopsie.

Unbeknownst to many, Derek actually has a wicked sense of humor.

It’s a brand as bitter and dry as English tea, but it’s still there, making an appearance when Stiles needs it the most. It’s amazing how little it takes; Derek can make him giggle with a well-timed eyebrow quirk, or by just repeating back what Stiles said to him in a deadpan tone. Derek looks at him with shiny eyes and Stiles wonders how many years it’s been since the now rebuilt walls of Hale house have echoed with laughter.

So all in all, they have a great, steady relationship based on love and respect and fun – and then the pranks begin.

 

Derek is on a business trip in New York. His freshly published cookbook has been getting great reviews, and he's been gaining some pretty impressive name recognition. Stiles isn't necessarily pleased to give up his Derek time, but then again he always brings souvenirs with him whenever he's traveling, so it’s not like Stiles has too much to complain about.

It’s 2.40 AM and he can’t sleep – October is just beginning but he always gets cold at night without Derek’s warmth curled around him – and he’s dicking around on YouTube, when he stumbles across videos of people pranking their significant other. It’s stupid stuff, really, from some girl pretending to trash her girlfriend’s Playstation to a guy scaring his girlfriend as many times as possible per day. Stiles falls asleep still browsing and wakes up with his laptop still on.

And because Stiles is nothing but obsessive, he can’t get the idea out of his mind. How would Derek react to being pranked? Would he be mad, or laugh it off, or _what_?

The thing is, he has to get a little creative. Derek’s super senses can distinct whenever he’s lying, and things like fake blood are out of question because of the smell, so Stiles sticks to stuff that’s mostly harmless. But the problem is – he keeps throwing, but nothing sticks.

Mixing dye with Derek’s shampoo? He just wears the light purple hair like a fucking male model. Pretending to spill coffee on his laptop where the only existing version of his second book lays? Derek pinches his nose for a minute, says he’s not mad, the draft was bad anyways. Letting Lydia apply makeup hickeys on Stiles? Derek simply pushes him against the wall and noses his neck, swiping off the makeup, growls that there’s nobody else’s scent there and if Stiles wants to mess with Derek, he may as well carry the consequences, Derek will fuck these stupid pranks out of him and he won’t get to come before Derek says so.

Okay, so, maybe the last one _was_ a reaction, but it’s still not what Stiles is looking for, not exactly. Because wherein the start of their relationship was rocky at best, violent at worst, Derek has always been so careful about even yelling at Stiles when they became romantically involved. He cherishes him like a flower, and he’s just so _zen_ with everything, Stiles wants to shake him up a little.

There are mornings when Stiles wakes up before Derek and kinda just stares at him; he still can’t believe he’s managed to pick up such a hot piece of ass. And he tells Derek that, too, with overflowing stream of words, carefully crafted sentences of his love. And Derek smiles at him, kisses him quiet and it always leads to sex, but, you see, the thing is – Derek doesn't really _talk_. Sure they’ve exchanged the I love yous; of course they have, but Derek? He usually clams the fuck up whenever Stiles gets all romantic on him, and it’s all fine and dandy, except Stiles – he just needs a little reassurance, at times. So he starts chasing for The Prank, the one that would make Derek finally crack.

And it becomes more than a game.

 

Of course there’s been a couple of pranks that have, simply put, Gone Wrong.

There's some weird stuff, like for example the time when Stiles wakes Derek from a nap and presents him with an actual sub collar, asks him to wear it for him in sexual relations, and instead of getting shifty like a regular person? Derek goes all quiet and offers his neck up just like that. Stiles doesn’t upload that video or the results.

Derek is simply unpredictable. Stiles and Scott orchestrate a mega scary killer clown prank on him; they hire a couple of guys, get them all masked up in true It style and instruct them to wait for Derek in a dark garage. So does he scream and run to the opposite direction when faced with a gang of bloodstained creepy clowns? Fuck no. Derek simply drops his fangs and claws and fucking _charges_ for the clowns like the GQMF Alpha he is.

It does a little something to Stiles, that he’s got a man who’s willing and capable to take on a pack of chainsaw-wielding killer clowns. But albeit the amazing number of watches the video gets, it’s still not what Stiles wants. So he starts to plan an epic prank after that, one that goes all out.

He fakes his own death. A classic, right? For a second he thinks it might be too cruel, considering the tragedy of Derek's past, but fuck it, he's willing to try. It’s gonna be the most epic prank ever, he knows it, there’s no way Derek will not react to this one.

Stiles invests on a spell that hides his pulse and buys actual real human blood like a gigantic weirdo. He’s noted both the police station and the hospital to be in alert when Derek will call, and it’s so mean and so good at the same time, Stiles is buzzing when he gets ready on the couch of their living room. Lydia assists him with the whole dead aesthetics thing, and then it’s game on.

Derek comes home, finds Stiles, and merely rolls his eyes. "Stop fooling around, this is getting ridiculous, do you really think I wouldn't know the scent of your blood by heart by now?” he says, turns the television on. Stiles lays there, covered in a stranger's blood, and thinks about the rolling cameras and humiliation and how Derek doesn't really seem bothered at all of the body laying next to him.

 

The Pregnancy Prank is a chapter of its own.

They have never, ever discussed children, partially because holy shit they’re both still way too young for that kind of responsibility, and partially because Stiles is slightly scared about Derek’s stance on kids. He wants a huge fucking family himself, alright? Wants to put all the rooms in their house to use, wants to see Derek teach their little girl how to ride a bike, to throw a punch. Imagines themselves growing old and telling stories about how they met to their grandkids. How Derek will make such a good Alpha to a pack of his own.

But the reality now is that Derek is scared to shit whenever they’re even near babies. When Allison and Scott had their daughter, a delightful little thing called Michelle, and they visited the hospital when she was born – well. Scott handed Michelle to Derek, who had such a terrified, wide look in his eyes, cradled the baby like a bomb, and handed her out to Stiles after three seconds.

So it’s also part curiosity that drives Stiles to do it. He stops taking his birth control for a couple of days so that’ll throw Derek off the scent, and make it believable enough. It’s an ordinary Thursday night when he buys two pregnancy tests and manipulates them with apple juice to appear as positive.

He doesn’t even know what he’s expecting. Maybe a stammering ramble on how they’re too young, a phone call to Cora – something, anything. But as it is, nothing could’ve prepared him for what actually happens.

Derek comes home from a work meeting, and Stiles is once again sat in the living room, the test hidden under his palm. Derek can probably smell his anxiety, because he comes surging in and asks right away what the hell is going on. He tries to hold Stiles’ hand but Stiles just shows him the test, instead.

“I’m pregnant,” he whispers and luckily his heart is hammering in his chest loud enough Derek won’t even be able to distinct the lie.

Derek picks up the stick carefully, looks at it all mute for the longest of time, and Stiles’ anxiety is rising for real. This is how Derek would be reacting to them having a child, and it’s nothing good, judging by how quiet he’s being, and finally Stiles snaps, doesn’t know why he’s so mad out of the sudden.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?” he demands with a dry mouth. Finally Derek looks up, and his expression is – yeah. Eyes all huge and liquid, and he drops to his knees, goes down like a ragdoll, even though he’s wearing a nice suit.

There’s astonishment and wonder and pure unaltered worship in his eyes as he brings his hand to rest on Stiles’ flat stomach. “You’re going to give me a baby,” he says and it’s a whisper, a wish, really, and Stiles knows he’s fucked up big time.

Derek pushes his head against his thigh, breathes in the scent of him. His shoulders are shaking. Oh, this is bad, Stiles is so going to hell.

Carefully, palms sweating and heartbeat still going staccato, he lays a hand on Derek’s hair, strokes through it.

“Derek, look,” he says cautiously, and why does his voice sound so wrecked, goddamnit? “Babe, it’s a prank.”

Derek doesn’t move for a beat, doesn’t even breathe. Then, a composed: “Excuse me?”

“It was a prank, okay, I’m – it’s not real, babe,” Stiles explains and feels cold to the bones when Derek detaches carefully from him.

“You’re not pregnant,” Derek says and it’s a statement and an accusation at the same time. He blinks up at Stiles, face neutral and slack.

Stiles’ cheeks are going pink and he feels like he’s burning up inside. “No, it was – I’m sorry, I thought it was funny,” he hurries to explain.

“Yeah,” Derek says. It’s hollowed out and he won’t meet Stiles’ eyes, and even though Stiles is so terrified at the same time, he's weirdly relieved – this must be the straw that breaks the wolf’s neck. It _must_ be. The verbal annihilation will ensue any moment now – any – well – except Derek simply slumps against him, drags a tired hand across his face.

“What, that’s it? You don't hate me for doing this?” Stiles asks a little desperately, and Derek shakes his head, musters a smile on his face. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I don't think it's possible for me to ever hate you,” he says and pulls Stiles in a hug, and he hides the bitter wave of disappointment surging through him.

 

So, obviously the situation calls for desperate measures. So what Stiles does is that he waits two and a half months to do another prank. Life is good, it always is, but it doesn’t stop bugging Stiles that Derek won’t open his mouth. He kisses Stiles the same, they have amazingly hot sex like always, but Stiles has started feeling cold and sad afterwards.

It’s the only reason he’s doing this, he tells himself as he’s packing his things up, emptying his closet and all the shelves and carefully constructing his life into brown boxes. This is the sure thing. Derek will break down, will get angry and yell at him; there will be at least four curse words or Stiles isn’t satisfied.

It’s a day much like any else. Stiles set up the cameras hours ago, and he’s packing his clothes when he hears the front door open.

Some noise from the kitchen, obviously Derek rummaging through the fridge, and then he calls out: “Stiles?”

He doesn’t answer.

Apparently that does pique Derek’s interest, because after a few minutes the bedroom door opens. “Stiles?”

Stiles turns around. Watches as Derek frowns, taking in the half-empty bedroom. “What’s going on? Are you decorating?”

“Derek.” It’s hard to speak. His tongue feels metallic. “I’m sorry.”

“What have you done?” Derek asks. He’s always the rational one.

“I’m leaving,” Stiles says, carefully practiced, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Derek stares at him. Stiles stares back.

Derek walks to the bed, sits down. “Okay,” he says.

Stiles waits. Nothing comes.

_Okay_. That’s Derek’s reaction to Stiles leaving him. No, _wait, can’t we talk about this_ , no _what the fuck do you think you’re doing_ , not even a _but why_ – just an _okay_.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, and he doesn’t even have to fake the waver in his voice the slightest bit. “This is me. Going.”

Derek doesn’t move a muscle. He just keeps staring at his feet like he’s not even really there. Stiles wants to fucking scream at him, _say something, you idiot_.

Finally, he does. “Can I just ask you for one thing?”

“What's that?” Stiles’ heart is pounding. This is it – this is where the accusations must come flying in, even Gandhi would lose his shit when being broke up with –

“I’d like to have a last kiss. That’s all.”

And that’s what he goes for. The request is so surprising, the situation so shocking to Stiles, he can’t do nothing else but nod jerkily. “Fine,” he says and Derek is up on his feet in a flash.

This would be the perfect opportunity to ask him why he’s leaving, to demand anything from him, to yell at him, shit, maybe even hit him – but Derek simply crosses the room, steps soft and slow, and when they’re face to face, he curls his huge hands so carefully around Stiles’ face and kisses him deep, chaste, like it’s the last time. Like he's memorizing every single second of this, and that just _breaks_ Stiles.

He hears a sob and doesn’t even realize it’s him before Derek’s pulling him into a hug. “Stiles,” he whispers. “Please, baby. Don’t cry.”

Stiles can single-handedly count the times Derek has called him baby, and it makes him want to die. “Oh my god,” he says, clings onto Derek’s shirt. “I’m – I’m so sorry, Derek – it’s – “

“It’s okay,” Derek promises but how can he, when he doesn’t even _know_. “I don’t blame you.”

“B-blame me?” Stiles stutters. “What do you mean?”

“It’s okay,” Derek repeats. “I won’t – I’m letting you go, you don’t have to worry about anything.”

It’s unbelievable, that’s what it is. Derek looks so defeated and sad, and he still won’t fight Stiles. “Look at me,” Stiles says, a surge of fury flowing through his veins. Derek snaps his gaze to him. “It’s a prank, Derek,” Stiles says, slow and sure, and he’s never been this goddamn mad. “It’s a stupid fucking _prank._ But you – you’d let me go? That’s it?”

“What?” Derek asks, voice cracking.

“How could you – are you kidding me? You’re _letting_ _me go_? What the absolute kind of shit is that?!”

“This is a _prank_?” Derek's voice raises barely an octave.

“It’s a tasteless one, I admit, but shit, what the hell are you playing at? You wouldn’t – you don't even ask for an explanation, are you kidding me?”

“You’re not leaving me?” Derek asks eyes wide and mouth trembling like that’s the only thing in this that matters to him.

“I could _never_ ,” Stiles practically growls. “But I don’t really know – it seems like you don’t really. I just, sometimes I feel like you’re not really. I don’t fucking know. Shit, do you – you really wouldn't even try to stop me? Do you honestly care that little?” he asks and he knows it’s unfair but he’s shaken to the absolute core, can’t believe this was supposed to be a mostly innocent YouTube prank and instead he feels like he's just lost the love of his life.

Derek casts his eyes down, voice broken. “I always have this feeling, like I don’t get to keep you,” he says. It’s a horrible thing. “I’m damaged goods and you’re brilliant, why would you ever – you should leave, you should, I should make you,” he says and it’s so stupid, what the hell is he even saying?

“Derek. Derek, look at me.” Derek’s shaking his head, but Stiles grabs at his jaw. “You’re the best fucking thing in my life. I love you.”

“Then why would you fucking _leave me_ ,” Derek cries and he crumbles, collapses on Stiles and this is so horrible and fucked up and twisted, Derek is _crying_. “Stop doing this shit to me, Stiles, I can’t – I’ve put up with it so far but I can’t – you’re all I ever wanted. And if you wanted me to change, you should’ve just said so and I – don’t you already know I would do _anything_ for you?”

And the most horrible thing is that yes, Stiles does. Has always known, but because of his own insecurities it wasn’t enough. It all seems so stupid now, so small minded, because Derek is falling apart in his hands and Stiles has to be the one to fix him this time.

“Come on,” he croaks, half-drags Derek to the bed, and lets him snuggle into him and cry softly against his chest. His shirt is going wet with Derek’s _tears_ , and Stiles feels like the worst human being alive.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve laid there, Derek’s crying dried out, Stiles whispering apologies to him, but it’s almost dark outside and they’re clinging to each other like they’d drown without each other, which is sort of true in any way it counts.

“I’m so fucking sorry, I – “ Stiles starts, but Derek kisses him quiet this time.

“Fuck me,” he demands hotly, pushes a hand inside Stiles’ shirt. “Right the fuck now. Prove me you love me. Don’t just fucking tell me, show me.”

And Stiles does.

 

Stiles stops doing pranks. He even makes a video about it, and the most surprising part is nobody’s even angry. The comment field is all, ‘happy u realized what a catch u have before u ruined it!!” and Stiles almost cries because they came way too close.

Life settles. Stiles opens his eyes and learns to appreciate all the small nonverbal ways Derek tells him he loves him, and boys, how blind he’s been. Every time Derek gives him a foot rub without being asked, covers him with a blanket or his own body when he falls asleep on the couch, reminds him about a library loan that’s about to be late, doesn’t whine about the vegan food served when Stiles’ dad is visiting – that all speaks to Stiles on a whole new different level.

And, naturally, three months after when he proposes to Derek on their anniversary, Derek thinks it’s a prank, at first. “You promised me you’d stop doing this,” Derek says but Stiles can’t stop smiling. He has to convince Derek for fifteen minutes straight there are no cameras rolling, and then Derek’s eyes go all huge and wild.

“Is this real?” he asks in a small voice. Stiles curses his past self, asks Derek again, and he says yes, this time. Stiles pushes the finger on Derek’s finger and kisses him afterwards for the longest of time.

And if Derek says nothing else for the next 45 minutes, it’s alright – Stiles gets to keep him for life, and that’s enough and then some.


End file.
